


All Shadows Dance Upon the Wall

by ScarlettFAngell



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anakin Skywalker Doesn't Turn to the Dark Side, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Blood and Injury, Blow Jobs, Bounty Hunters, Clone Troopers Speak Mando'a (Star Wars), Darth Maul Lives, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Falling In Love, Fighting Makes Mandos Horny, Force-Sensitive Clone Troopers (Star Wars), Gay Disaster Mandos, Hand Jobs, Inappropriate Use of the Force, Injury Recovery, Jango Fett has Trust Issues, Jango Fett takes an Interest, Light Bondage, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Mand'alor Jango Fett, Mandalorian Culture (Star Wars), Mando'a Language (Star Wars), Non-Consensual Drug Use, Obi-Wan Kenobi Falls, Obi-Wan Kenobi ends up on Kamino, Obi-Wan Kenobi is Not a Jedi, Obi-Wan Kenobi is a Mess, Obi-Wan walks a fine line between Light and Dark, On the Run, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Jango Fett, Protective Obi-Wan Kenobi, Qui-Gon Jinn Lives, Resolved Sexual Tension, Set during APM, Slave Culture, Slavery, The Force, Torture, Trust Issues, Unresolved Sexual Tension, fighting as flirting, some of the clones are force sensitive
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-24
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-14 20:34:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29672898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScarlettFAngell/pseuds/ScarlettFAngell
Summary: Obi-Wan saved his Master’s life, but at the cost of something far worse. He Fell, and Fell hard--or he thinks so. Regardless, he has to run, and run he does. He makes it to the edge of Hutt Space before he’s captured and tortured by a Twi’lek named Thessa. He’s rescued by the last person he’d ever expected to see; Jango Fett.
Relationships: Jango Fett/Obi-Wan Kenobi, Mij Gilamar & Obi-Wan Kenobi, Mij Gilmar/Kal Skirata, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Satine Kryze, Past Obi-Wan Kenobi/Satine Kryze - Relationship, one-sided Satine Kryze/Obi-Wan Kenobi
Comments: 10
Kudos: 142





	1. One

**One**

**_The fight had been hard_ ** won and he was left panting as he stood over the pit he'd sent the Sith tumbling down. He'd pulled his strike at the last second, barely cutting a line across Zabrak's stomach. He'd originally intended on cutting in him half, but decided not to at the last second--something the Force had told him to do. Obi-Wan stared down into the dark shaft for a moment, trying to calm himself while the Force kept nudging at him urgently, bringing his attention back to his master.

"Obi.."

He sucked in a sharp breath and moved quickly to his master's side, kneeling carefully and gently lifting Qui-Gon's head into his lap. "Master, are you--"

"You have to...you have to--"

He swallowed thickly, shaking his head. "No. No, I can't.. Master... Qui-Gon, please, let me help you."

"No, Obi, don't--"

Obi-Wan ignored him, shifting to lay his hands on the wound in Qui-Gon's upper stomach. He took a deep breath and reached for the Force. It responded eagerly, funelling through him and into his master, carefully healing the wound from the inside out. Qui-Gon made a noise of protest, grabbing at the front of his robes but Obi-wan was too focused on being a conduit for the Force so that it could heal his master. It felt so bright and warm that he didn't even stop to consider if it was a Light or Dark technique. Let alone that he'd not actually killed the Sith--they both knew a Force-user would survive a fall like that.

The Force flared even brighter and then suddenly, it stopped. Obi-Wan dropped out of the light trance he'd been in with a gasp, sagging slightly. He leaned over Qui-Gon, almost breathless with the sudden lack of Force flowing through him. Qui-Gon was whimpering slightly, trembling as he still clung to Obi-Wan's robes.

"Obi-Wan," his master whispered, strained and scared. "What have you done?"

He tensed, shifting slightly to meet his master's gaze. "Master?"

Qui-Gon cupped is cheek, guiding his face up and to the side. The older man sucked in a sharp breath. "Obi-Wan... That was a Dark technique. Where did you learn it?"

Obi-Wan pressed his lips together. He couldn't--he wouldn't... If he told Qui-Gon of the visions the Force had sent him, of his master dying and the Sith's angry face, of everything that would happen if he didn't save Qui-Gon... He couldn't lie, but he couldn't tell him either. Not all of him. Obi-Wan swallowed thickly and closed his eyes, feeling tears welling up.

"The Force guided me," he whispered brokenly, leaning into his master's touch. Qui-Gon stiffened but did not pull away. "It has been...guiding me...for a while, Master."

There was a moment of silence and then Qui-Gon sighed.

"You walk a very fine line, my padawan," he said, brushing a thumb beneath one of Obi-Wan's eyes, gently sweeping the tears escaping him away. "I'm not sure the Council will approve..."

"I can't stay," he said, almost a sob, and felt Qui-Gon's agreement in the force.

"No, you cannot."

"I.. I must leave, Master..."

They fell silent and Obi-Wan can't meet his master's eyes, not directly. He wasn't sure if he could, not after what he'd done, but Qui-Gon was surprisingly understanding. Obi-Wan wet his lips and ducked his head, gently moving his master's off his lap.

"I have to go," he muttered and Qui-Gon pushed up onto an elbow. Obi-Wan shuffled away and moved to get up only to pause when his master's hand landed on his arm. He glanced at it then at his master's face. "Please don't tell them where I'm going--"

"Obi-Wan." Qui-Gon was giving him an odd look. "You know I wouldn't do that to you, not after..."

Obi-Wan knew what his master meant. Bandomeer... Melida/Daan. Xanatos. Mandalore. Everything else inbetween and beyond. So much danger, so much pain. Obi-Wan swallowed thickly and nodded. "I know, Master."

"Wherever you go, will you be safe?" the older Jedi asked and Obi-Wan sighed. 

"Hopefully," he said and climbed to his feet, shaking off the older man's hand. Obi-Wan turned away and then hesitated, glancing back. "Don't mess up with Anakin and don't trust Palpatine-- _never_ leave him alone with Anakin, _please_."

Qui-Gon blinked at him. "Another...vision?"

"Yes. Also, Galidraan was a trap...and look for Kamino." He hesitated, watching Qui-Gon carefully. He tossed his comm over after a moment. "You can call for a medic with that. I won't be needing it." Another pause and Obi-Wan swallowed thickly. "May the force be with you, my Master."

"And with you, my padawan."

With a curt nod, Obi-Wan sweeps out of the room, leaving Qui-Gon to call for support as he ducked back through the red force fields and out of sight.

\---

Stealing a hyperspace-capable ship had been ridiculously easy. He'd just had to tell the pilots guarding them that he needed one and they let him take it without protest. They probably still thought he looked like a jedi, despite the fact that he wasn't wearing his outer robes. That, at least, worked in his favour--but he knew that they'd track the small cruiser as soon as Qui-Gon told them he'd gone darkside.

Which meant he had to ditch it.

Obi-Wan took the cruiser to Roldalna and sold it off to the first person who’d buy it, then brought a second, smaller ship back around towards the Outer Rim, then around to Hutt Space. He swapped ships again at Mon Gazza, then he went out and brought a change of clothes, a blaster and a new-old comm unit. He ditched his clothes there, stowing them in various outbound cargos without anyone noticing him doing so. Then he set off again and stopped at Manda to grab a vibroblade and refuel, and also get some supplies.

He was paranoid, he couldn’t help it. By now, it had been at least a month. Qui-Gon had to have reported to the Council by now, they had to be searching for him. Obi-Wan knew he’d have to be careful, more so than he’d already been. Which meant he needed a new identity...

Fuck. How was he supposed to do that? Well, Qui-Gon hadn’t taught him how to splice for no reason, so he may as well use those skills now. Besides, how else was he supposed to disappear into a galaxy that was now quite hostile to him? He could do that in Aroo, but he’d need access to the Archives and the HoloNet in general--hopefully, slicing into the system from his ship would work.

Obi-Wan leaned back in the pilot’s seat of his new ship--a GX1 short hauler--and sighed. It wasn’t the prettiest ship, but it’d be suitable for his needs. And the previous owner hadn’t needed it, either, so bonus for him. He still needed to get into the appropriate systems to craft a new identity. Obi-Wan hauled himself out of the seat and headed back through to the galley to fix himself some tea. He had a feeling he’d need it while he did some slicing.

Fifteen minutes later, Omari Mavar was born. He’d even tried to include as much history as possible, same birthdate but from Kuat--not Stewjon; that would be a huge red flag--and having an education in one of the many schools that Coruscant had. He’d added a ‘recently disowned by family’ into the system as someone’s clerical note. It made him smirk a little.

\---

It had taken him months to get to Hutt Space--it was dangerous, but worth the risk. No one would think to look for him there. And it had helped that Obi-Wan had changed his clothes and secured a decent ship--granted, it was sort of stolen but that was beside the point. He'd had to sell parts from it recently, though, which meant he was grounded on Kwenn--or more accurately, Kwenn Space Station. Alone and without a working ship or a way off.

Obi-Wan sighed, watching the port from his place in the shadows with his hood pulled up as beings of many types came and went. He was waiting for an opening, lightsaber secured to the small of his back so that it wouldn't be seen. He'd secured a vibroblade and had that strapped to one thigh and also had acquired a blaster which was stepped to the other thigh. At a passing glance, he looked like any other spacer on the station. Minus the fact he was human and an ex-Jedi.

He shifted slightly, adjusting how he was leaning against the wall. It had been a few months--he'd cut his hair in a hopefully level style and decided to let it grow; it was now around shoulder length and a darker auburn than it'd been before. He was starting to feel more like himself now.

Obi-Wan's gaze darted towards a glint of light off metal and he tensed at the sight of three Mandalorians passing through the port. The crowd scattered before them and Obi-Wan pressed back harder against the wall, trying to hide in the shadows. One of the Mandos glanced over anyway, looking right at him. Obi-Wan swallowed and watched the strange Mando watch him. The trio passed him by without another look in his direction.

He didn't relax until they well out of sight and out of his reach with the Force, then and only then did he push off the wall with a soft noise of distress. Obi-Wan figured he may as well head off to search the nearest cantina for a job.

The cantina was crowded, dark and dingy but not overly dirty. Obi-Wan didn't even glance at the booths as he joined the other few spacers and mercs at the bar. He ordered a drink and settled in to wait, ignoring the looks he was getting for still having his hood up. Obi-Wan ignored the few who dared to sit too close to him, and flagged down the bartender--a handsome Togrutan male--to request another drink. The Togruta offered him a smile and then disappeared down the far end where a small group of mercs were sitting and discussing something loudly in Huttese--a contract, apparently. Obi-Wan tried not to pay too much attention to them.

Someone grabbing his hood and yanking it down took him completely by surprise and he hissed out a curse in Mando'a as he twisted to see who had grabbed him. There was a Feeorin behind him, dark green skin with dull yellow eyes. It was snarling slightly, the fabric of his hood clutched in his clawed fist and his tentacles writhing madly.

"Can I help you?" he asked, trying for a more outer-rim accent instead of the Core one he had--and trying to stay calm. The last thing he needed was to piss off the Feeorin gripping his jacket. "It's rude to just walk up to someone and harrass them, you know."

"You stink," the Feeorin announced, still snarling at him. "Smell like...mmh...desperation."

Obi-Wan froze. "Oh, fuck you," he muttered in Bocce--which the Feeorin apparently didn’t understand--then grabbed his wrist tightly and twisted. The Feeorin was forced to let go with a hiss of pain and Obi-Wan stood up, sidestepping the other being. "I'm sick of you lot trying to hit on me. Find better pick up lines, for kriff's sake!"

It muttered something in Feeorin at him and Obi-Wan frowned. He wasn't familiar with the language but he had a feeling they weren't saying anything nice, judging by the snicker somewhere down the bar. He reached out with the Force but it was silent, neither warning him nor encouraging him. Obi-Wan sighed.

"I'm afraid I don't understand," he said, raising an eyebrow at the Feeorin. "You'll have to use Basic or another language that I may or may not understand."

"Buy you drink?" the Feeorin asked, tilting his head and Obi-Wan laughed, releasing the other man's wrist.

"No, thank you," he told him, giving the Feeorin a pat on the shoulder. "Usually, I wouldn't say no...but I'm working. Sorry, buddy. Another time, maybe?"

The Feeorin introduced himself as Dekar and gave Obi-Wan his comm code before leaving the cantina with a jaunty little wave. Obi-Wan watched him go before turning back to the bar and the bartender's amused grin. He shrugged and leant against the bar again, tugging his half-empty glass towards him. The Force screamed in warning right as a hand came down on his shoulder and yanked him backwards. Obi-Wan nearly went sprawling, cussing out his newest attacker.

It was the Mandalorian from the space port. Obi-Wan swallowed, catching himself on a table behind him, eyeing the Mando warily. He reached for the Force only to find it quiet and calm. "Seriously? I can't even have one drink without being interrupted?"

"Are you following me?" the Mando demanded in a flat, robotic voice. Obi-Wan winced, straightening up a little to give the other man a closer look. The Mando's armour was mostly unpainted with touches of blue on the helmet.

"No," Obi-Wan said, frown deepening. "Why would I stalk a Mando? That's a fucking death wish."

The Mandalorian hesitated--he could feel it in the force--and tilted his helmeted head slightly. "Hmph." He grabbed Obi-Wan's wrist and yanked it up, his other hand going to his vambrace. Obi-Wan watched with growing confusion as his new-old comm pinged with a message. "Try not to get into too much trouble, kid."

With that, the Mando let him go and headed for a booth in the back corner where the other two Mandos were sitting. Obi-Wan watched them for a moment, then went back to the bar, dropped a small handful of credits onto it before he took off out the door. He didn't check to see if he was followed except as an afterthought--with the Force. It didn't tell him he was in danger until it was too late and someone's arm was around his throat and a sharp prick to his neck. He tried to fight them, to fight whatever they'd injected him with, but he was dragged down into unconsciousness ridiculously fast.

\---

Obi-Wan groaned as he came to, swaying slightly. It took a moment for him to figure out where the hell he was, reaching out almost blindly with the Force only for nothing to happen. It took a moment longer for the sudden silence in his mind to register and he sucked in a sharp breath _because he couldn't feel the fucking Force properly._ He forced himself not to react to that even though he was panicking slightly and quickly squinted into the dim room, trying to take stock of himself. 

He frowned slightly, shifting a little and trying to figure out why his head was so fuzzy and his vision blurred. His arms were raised above his head, wrists cuffed together and he made a soft noise of displeasure when he discovered that his calves were tied to his thighs with rope. He jerked on the chain--there was not much give to it, but it did clank predictable. Great, he was all tied up. Again.

The next thing he noticed was that they'd stripped him--he had no shirt or jacket on, and no boots, leaving him shivering on the cold, stone floor. They'd even taken his comm, blaster and the vibroblade he'd been carrying. Fuck. He shifted again, swallowing a little to try and wet his lips to try to get some moisture in his dry mouth. Weight shifted against his throat with the movement and Obi-Wan froze. 

They'd put a fucking _collar_ on him.

Obi-Wan was going to _kill_ them.

But that wouldn't be very Jedi-like of him, would it? He snorted and shook his head, dread pooling in his gut as the metal shifted against his neck again. Then again, he wasn't a Jedi anymore, hadn't been for several months now.

He took a deep breath and slipped into a light meditation, realising he could actually distantly feel the Force, but not reach for it. At least he could still meditate without needing the Force to do so, and he did just that, letting himself drift, carefully letting his anger go into the Force as much as possible. He couldn't afford to be angry right now--he needed to keep a cool head, needed to be able to think. He'd wait for them to come to him, then.

A door opening behind him brought him out of it and Obi-Wan opened his eyes, snorting. He didn't bother trying to turn around--there was no way he'd be able to anyway.

"You know it's rude to keep a guest waiting, right?"

"Who says you're a guest?"

Fingers dug into his hair and yanked his head back, making Obi-Wan hiss in pain, squinting up at the figure leaning over him. A Twi'lek with deep red skin and geometric shapes inked into the skin of her lekku in black. Obi-Wan watched her as she watched him, before she snorted and dug sharp claws into his scalp. 

"Pitiful," she said, accent heavy, and shoved his head forward. "But you are a Jedi, and you will be worth quite a bit." She sounded like she was smirking and Obi-Wan tried to figure out what she wanted, other than the obvious. "You need some...incentive, hm?"

"No thanks," Obi-Wan told her, tilting his head even as she dug her claws in again. He had to bide his time, wait for an opening--not that there was much he could do with a fucking Force-darmpening collar on. "I think this is enough incentive."

"Hmm, no. Not enough." She released him and he heard her step back. He grimaced but didn't turn away. There was a rustle and then a slithering sound as something clearly passed hands. She wasn't alone--fuck. Then there was a solid slither-thump as whatever the Twi'lek held was tipped out of her hand and onto the floor--it was a whip. A fucking vibrowhip. Obi-Wan swallowed, tensing when he heard the low hum start up--he'd know that sound anywhere, especially after his trip to Offworld's wonderful slave mines. "I will make you talk, Jedi."

Obi-Wan ground his teeth together. "You can try."

He took a steadying breath and slipped into a slightly deeper meditation trance than before, distantly aware of the first strike and started to count, heedless of the blood streaking down his back and pooling onto the floor, of the pain-heat-burning sensation in each strike of the vibrowhip against his back. He'd lost count when something broke past the Force-dampening collar, surging up and over him and dragging him forcibly out of his trance. Pain and fear and anger dug into his skull, past his nearly non-existent shields and deep into his brain, digging and clawing at him. He screamed, arching in his bonds, yanking at the cuffs on his wrists as yet another strike from the whip came down across his back.

Eventually, it all stopped and he sagged, listing to one side as his vision darkened dangerously at the edges. Obi-Wan whimpered softly, limp in his bonds. The Twi'lek woman chuckled darkly and he flinched at the slithering sound of a whip being drawn back once more. But the blow didn't come. The Twi'lek woman snorted in disgust and left, leaving whoever she'd brought with her in the room with a soft order to keep going.

He passed out after the next strike.

\---

The torture continued in that vein for what had to be days, by Obi-Wan’s estimation. He couldn’t tell--the room was sealed and solid, no windows, thick stone walls and only the one door behind him. And he only knew about that because of the noise it made when it opened. He had to be planet-side somewhere. There was no way he was still on the Station--the walls were stone, after all--but he couldn’t focus past the pounding in his head and the dull ache of his back. He’d used what little access to the Force he had to try and ease the pain, not that it was working very well. It kept distracting him every time he shifted to ease the ache in his legs.

The guard, when he visited, refused to remove the rope from his legs and would only kick his lower back in he tried to convince him otherwise--and had once threatened him with a gag. Obi-Wan had promptly shut his mouth at that. The last thing he wanted was to be gagged. He still remembered the last time that had happened, and Xanatos had not been nice about that, either.

Obi-Wan resorted to meditating again when he heard the door open behind him. He pulled himself out of the trance and listened carefully, trying to figure out who was there and what they wanted this time. The sharp click of heels on stone let him know the Twi’lek woman was back, and he tensed.

“Back to taunt me some more?” he asked, trying to go for jaunty but falling short of it. His voice sounded wrecked, probably from a combination of the lack of use recently and the screaming he’d been doing. They hadn’t bothered to offer him water, either.

“Hmm, no. I thought we might try something different, no?”

And that was her fingers back in his hair, yanking his head back. Obi-Wan hissed at the way it pulled on his injured back and glowered up at her. She smirked at him. 

“Shall we start with introductions?” he added, smirking at her. Her eyes narrowed dangerously.

“You just do not shut up, do you?”

“Nope.”

“Pity,” she murmured, digging claws into his scalp again. He was sure she’d broken skin; he could feel his hair matting together from what he assumed to be blood--and probably sweat. “You do make such lovely sounds, you know. I thought I might enjoy hearing some more of them, yes?”

Obi-Wan snorted. “As if I have a choice in the matter.”

“You will tell me who trained you, pretty one,” she hissed, leaning in close and basically resting her chin against his temple, grip tightening again. “And you will tell me where to find them.”

He froze, swallowing thickly. What had she just said? She couldn’t possibly know. There was no way. He hadn’t done anything to arouse suspicion...hadn’t used the Force on her... She shouldn’t have suspected a thing. How the hell?

“I’m sorry, I don’t understand--”

She shook him roughly. “You know perfectly well what I’m asking. You have training with the Force--but you are not Jedi. You will tell me where your master is, _shag kung_.”

Fuck. _Slave scum._ She knew. And that was Huttese. He wet his lips, cleared his throat and exhaled. He tried to keep his voice steady when he spoke. She had no proof, no motive for any of this. Obi-Wan tried not to betray how badly that scared him.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Mmh, no,” she purred, sounding satisfied. “I think you do.”

“I swear, I have no idea--”

She grabbed his throat, squeezing tightly and Obi-Wan shut up. He could feel her claws digging into his throat when he swallowed. “Stop. Lying.”

Obi-Wan swallowed and nodded as much as she’d let him. She withdrew and shoved his head forward, hand tensing against his throat before she released him and stepped back. Obi-Wan took a deep breath, listening carefully as the whip exchanged hands, slithering against the stone floor. He was expecting the first strike, but not for it to be so hard. It opened up another cut across his back and he grunted in pain. Fuck, fuck...

“Keep going until he talks,” the Twi’lek said, and then heels clicked against the stone back towards the door.

“Yes, Mistress Thessa.”

The door opened and closed, and Obi-Wan sagged slightly. He hoped the guard wouldn’t hit him again, but he knew that wasn’t going to happen. He was proven correct when a few minutes passed and he heard the whip slithering back again as the guard drew it back for another blow. Only, the blow didn't come because right at that moment, the door was blown inwards, throwing the guard across the room. Obi-Wan watched on in dazed confusion, ears ringing, as several people poured into the room. 

Several _armoured_ people. 

Obi-Wan blinked stupidly, watching as the first one in--the one in familiar silver and blue armour--shot the guard point-black in the head with his blaster before turning to scan the room. He stopped when he noticed that Obi-Wan was still conscious and moved to kneel in front of him, gently tipping Obi-Wan's chin up with a bent figure.

"Can you hear me?" the Mando asked and Obi-Wan made a soft noise of dazed surprise. That got him a soft noise that he couldn't identify, and then the Mandalorian was taking his helmet off, seals releasing with a soft hiss. Obi-Wan watched him as he set the helmet aside and frowned at him; he was human and pretty with dark, tightly curled hair and tanned skin. It was a pleasant surprise. "Kenobi?"

"Hnnn?" Obi-Wan was too tired, in too much pain for much else. The Mando had pretty brown eyes and Obi-Wan wasn't sure if he said as much or not, but the Mando clearly gave him an exasperated smile before it was replaced by a deep frown and he called the other two over in Mando'a. They came over and Obi-Wan blinked slowly, feeling his consciousness fading quickly.

The next time he opened his eyes, he was on his back in what appeared to be the medbay of a shuttle. The three Mandos were nearby, talking in hushed voices--all three had their helmets off. Obi-Wan shifted slightly, reaching up to touch his neck and found chaffed, collar-free skin. He sagged in relief and let his eyes fall closed again. He was safe. He'd been rescued and he was free, and the collar was gone. That was all that mattered right then.


	2. Two

**Two**

**_Jango glanced over at the_** redhead resting on his medical bunk. He knew Mij and Cort had seen him move and he'd heard him, but the man hadn't spoken yet, hadn't done more then touch his neck in apparent relief. He squinted at where Kenobi's hand rested on his collarbone then back to his two most trusted _Cuy'val Dar_.

"I don't know what happened to him," Mij said, moving to check on the IV line in the back of Kenobi's other hand. "It's like they did more than basically flay the skin off his back, _'Alor_."

Cort stepped up beside him and they turned to watch Mij check on their resident _jetii_. Kenobi was an enigma--he'd sliced into the HoloNet and several other sources for the _jetii'_ s personnel files when he had the time, especially after hearing about Naboo. And especially after seeing the man in the cantina on Kwenn Station. He still wasn't sure why he'd given the ex- _jetii_ his comm codes or why he'd planted a tracker on the man. Just a feeling he had, he supposed.

“Drugs, perhaps?” Cort offered lowly, and Jando exhaled heavily, gaze still on Kenobi. “Wouldn’t be surprised. There’s some real nasty ones out there.”

Jango hummed, tilting his head towards Cort but not responding, not yet. The ex- _jetii_ was definitely awake now. He could see his fingers twitching every time they spoke Mando’a. It was more than like the man knew what they were saying. Jango wasn’t sure if he was annoyed or impressed. He decided to go with both and snorted to himself in amusement.

“He’ll survive,” Mij said, coming back over to them with a frown. All three of them weren’t wearing their helmets now, and Jango was only slightly distracted by the pretty redhead laying on the medbay of the _Aka'jor_ they’d _borrowed_. Liberated, really, from some _Kyr'tsad_ supporters. They wouldn’t be needing it, and Jango had made sure to repaint it before they’d brought it back to the _Werlaara_ , the _Kom'rk_ -class freighter Mij had brought with him to Kamino. “But there might be some...ah, side-effects? They used some kind of mix of Titroxinate and Skirtopanol. I don’t know how he’s still breathing, considering both of those are potent torture drugs on their on... Combined... Well, fuck. It was bad.”

Jango’s gaze snapped to Mij. “Is that all they used?”

“I think they might’ve mixed Spice into it, too.”

“Fuck.”

Cort sucked in a sharp breath. “What type of Spice, Mij?”

“Karrak, with a little Glitterstim.”

Jango winced. Karrak would suppress the _Jetii_ ’s ability to connect with the Force and Glitterstim would probably cause withdrawals, combined with the Titroxinate and Skirtopanol... That was a very nasty combination. The Karrak-Glitterstim must’ve been used to move Kenobi, and the torture drugs must have been adminsitered later on. Kenobi was in for a nasty detox.

“That is...quite the horrible combination, Mij,” he said, keeping his voice low and gesturing for Cort to dim the lights a bit. The other man did so eagerly. “He going to be okay, though?”

Mij grimaced. “Eventually.”

Jango hummed, gaze darting towards the redhead again. Kenobi was frowning slightly, eyes still closed, his fingers twitching again. “He’s awake,” Jango said, and Mij snorted. Cort chuckled. “You can go, Mij, Cort. I’ll handle it from here.”

“ _Elek, Mand’alor_.”

Cort just muttered something about getting the pretty _jetii_ alone, and Mij smacked him across the back of his head. Jango waited until they were both definitely in the cockpit before he crossed to the bunk, not even resisting the urge to brush Kenobi’s hair out of his face. Kenobi flinched away from the touch, one hand grabbing for Jango’s wrist. Thankfully, it was the one without the IV in it.

“Easy,” Jango said, switching to basic. “Easy, Kenobi.”

The _Jetii_ sucked in a sharp, shuddery breath and opened his eyes, meeting Jango’s gaze with his own bright blue ones. They were still a little hazy but far clearer than they’d been in that dingy little cell that stank of blood and sweat, and stale vomit.

“Wh-where...?” the ex- _jetii_ croaked, and Jango brushed the back of his gloved fingers down the man’s arm, from wrist to elbow. “Where--”

“You’re on my shuttle, _jetii_ ,” he told him, not moving an inch until the Jetii’s grip softened. “You’re safe, I swear.”

Kenobi squinted up at him, frowning and then tilted his head a little, taking in Jango’s bared face. “...you’re the one who saved me,” he muttered, finally releasing Jango’s wrist to reach up and touch his face, grimacing. Those pretty blue eyes swung back to his face, confused. “...why?”

Jango frowned, pulling his glove off and shifting to feel Kenobi’s forward, then he cheek with the back of his now-bare hand. “I don’t know,” he said honestly, and sighed. “You have a fever.”

The _jetii_ whimpered at the soft touch, jerking his face away from Jango’s hand. “That...doesn’t answer my question, _beroya_. And I know I have a fever... I think they drugged me--”

“They did,” Jango murmured and scowled. “I’m sure you heard everything Mij and I discussed.”

Kenobi tensed, gaze darting past Jango to the empty medbay beyond him. “I did...”

He snorted. That was as good an admission as any. The _jetii_ knew Mando’a, had understood everything the three of them had been saying. He huffed and brushed more hair out of Kenobi’s face. The jetii gave him a very disgruntled look.

“So you understood us?”

Kenobi eyed him warily. “Most of it... _Mand’alor_.”

Jango flinched. “Ah, so you did hear that.”

“ _Elek_.” Kenobi smirked at him, a little tiredly, but it was endearing nonetheless. “Thought a Vizsla was the current _Mand’alor_?”

He bared his teeth in a snarl. “Pre Vizsla is a kriffing _demagolka_ and a pretender to the title of _Mand’alor_.” He had to take a deep breath before continuing. “He doesn’t deserve to claim that title.”

The jetii blinked at him, eyes glazing over in a mix of confusion and drug withdrawal. “Why...aren’t you...leading them?”

Jango looked away, grimacing, and then Kenobi sucked in a sharp breath.

“Galidraan.”

“Don’t--”

Kenobi huffed. “Alright. Not like I don’t have my own demons.”

Jango frowned at that, but didn’t push. He and Mij had seen the scars, fresh layered over old, across his back, encircling his wrists and throat. He looked at the ones he could see now, saw the matching set on his own wrists and grimaced. This _jetii_ was no stranger to captivity.

“If I don’t ask about your demons,” he said carefully, and Kenobi’s eyes darted back to him. “You don’t ask about mine. Deal?”

“Deal,” the jetii whispered, and Jango nodded. Kenobi grimaced. “Detox is going to be hell.”

Jango chuckled. “No shit.”

\---

Getting Kenobi to talk was proving difficult and Jango was getting frustrated. The _jetii_ hadn’t said much beyond the fact that he’d been kicked out. He’d just requested to be returned to his ship so he could go on his way--but he wasn’t in any kind of shape to be going anywhere. His back was a horrible mess and Jango wasn’t sure how the man was dealing with it. Not to mention the cocktail of drugs he was suffering withdrawal symptoms from. Such a nasty mix of torture drugs and spice.

At least they’d learned the jetii’s ship was a GX1 Short hauler. Jango had Cort retrieve it before they left the planet. Even if Kenobi was an ex- _jetii_ , he didn’t want to leave the man suffering on his own ship as they left for Kamino. In fact, Kamino had a very good medical facility. Jango shared a look with Mij as the _Aka'jor_ connected to the _Werlaara._ Maybe they could convince Kenobi to take a dip in a bacta tank? But first, they’d have to get there, and Jango knew that Cort, in Kenobi’s GX1, was following them. He’d remember the coords and would meet them there.

It took a few days to convince Kenobi to come with them, and he only agreed once Jango mentioned that there were children there who may need a Force-user to train them. He didn’t mention _how many_ children, and he didn’t mention that they were _clones_. Kenobi didn’t need to know until he’d agreed and then Jango would make sure his contract was, ah, _very thorough_. He didn’t think he’d be able to stop the man from leaving Kamino occasionally, but he’d make sure there was nothing in the contract that would let Kenobi spill the beans.

He sighed. It was going to be a long few weeks to Kamino from Kwenn and Jango was not looking forward to it, especially with a grouchy _jetii_ onboard. He’d deal with it, though, if it meant he gained Kenobi as a trainer for the boys back home. If Kenobi wanted to try his hand at bounty hunting later, then Jango wouldn’t stop him. In fact, he might actually join him for a few, maybe bring one of the clones so the boys could experience the galaxy while he was at it--before they were shipped off to war.

Jango pushed off the bench in the galley, ducked his head into the medbay to check on Kenobi--they’d moved from the shuttle to the _Werlaara_ \--before he headed for the cockpit. Kenobi was, apparently, asleep. Or meditating. It was hard to tell sometimes, but he’d at least stopped shaking so violently--and it had only been a week. By the time they reached Kamino, he’d probably be completely through with his detox. Which was good. He wouldn’t have to deal with the _jetii_ ’s kriffing nightmares so often now. Unfortunately, Kenobi still had a bit of a fever, which was why he’d checked on him before going to sit with Mij for a bit.

\---

Trying to make sure Kenobi stayed still while he healed was just as difficult. The man just would _not_ stay in bed and it frustrated both Jango _and_ Mij to no end. Mij was the medic and Kenobi should be fucking listening to him, but nooo. The _Jetii_ thought he knew better. Kriffing Force-users. Jango was tempted to put the Force-dampening collar _back_ on him. Not to mention that _he kept reopening_ the wounds on his back every time he moved. Mij had resigned himself to continuously patching Kenobi up while Jango was five seconds short of pulling his hair out with every new thing the _jetii_ decided to fuck with.

It was _not_ helping his damn temper. _Or_ his sanity.

And Kenobi seemed to _know_ he was pissing Jango off, _so he kept doing it._ Whatever it was that irritated Jango so much. He eventually resorted to threatening to tie the man down on the medbay bunk if the _jetii_ so much as moved from the spot _one more time_. Kenobi had had the gall the grin at him and ask, in a _very_ flirtatious way, if Jango was into that kind of _osik_. Jango had to refrain from throttling the man. 

That had been three days ago, and the man had stayed put since. His mood even seemed to brighten whenever he saw Jango, whenever he decided to check in on him before joining Mij in the cockpit. Jango wasn’t sure what to think of it, and tried very hard not to think about the pretty redhead in his medbay. Well, it was _Mij’s_ medbay, but technicalities.

“I swear,” he muttered, lowering himself down into the co-pilot’s seat gingerly. “That man will be the death of me.”

Mij snorted. “If you mean the very obvious looks he’s been giving you lately, well--”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence, Mij Gilamar. _Don’t you dare_.”

The bastard had the audacity to laugh at him. “Wouldn’t dream of it, _‘Alor_.”

“Fuck you.”

“You wouldn’t dare piss off Kal, would you, _cuun Mand’alor?”_

Jango scowled and looked away, picking at the arm of his seat absently with torn nails. He’d need to trim them when they got back to Kamino. Mij was humming softly, giving him the space he needed to regain his composure. At least one of the clones hadn’t begged to come with him this time. He wasn’t sure how he would have explained Kenobi otherwise. Jango sighed and eventually sagged in his seat.

“I want to offer Kenobi a position in the _Cuy'val Dar_ ,” he said softly, still not looking at Mij.

Mij was quiet for a moment and Jango knew the man was giving him an incredulous look. “ _Me'ven_ _?”_ he said, then; “ _tion'jor?”_ Mij laughed and Jango sent him a dark look only to find his friend grinning at him. “ _Tion’gar emuurir kaysh?"_

He groaned and pressed a hand over his face. “Mij!”

“What?” the man said, still grinning. “I had to ask!”

Jango grumbled for a moment and then admitted that, yes, he liked him. Mij positively cackled and Jango sullenly glared at him until the man finally calmed down. He watched him for a moment longer and then exhaled carefully.

“You done now?”

Mij nodded. “Yep,” he said, and shifted in his seat for a moment before leaning over to fiddle with a couple of buttons on the console in front of him. After a moment, he glanced back over at Jango. “So, you’re bringing a _jetii_ into the fold? Are you sure he won’t just try to kill you and free the boys?”

He shrugged. “Dunno, but I’m willing to give it a try. I’m pretty sure some of them are Force-sensitive. Might be a benefit to have them trained... Maybe make them a stealth squad?”

The other man stared at him, eyes widening. “You... You’ve thought about this, haven’t you?”

“...I have,” he admitted quietly, casting his eyes to the side to avoid looking directly at Mij. “Quite a bit...and as much as I hate the _jetii_.... Kenobi wasn’t old enough to be at Galidraan...when it happened.” He lifted one shoulder in a half-assed shrug. “Maybe he won’t be so bad?”

Mij snorted at that and turned back to the controls. “If you say so, _‘Alor_.”

\---

“How long did they have me for?” Kenobi asked, startling Jango out of his methodical blaster cleaning. Jango glanced over, frowning when he found the _jetii_ leaning heavily against the doorframe to his quarters. What the hell was the man doing up and about?

“I thought I told you to _stay in bed_ , Kenobi,” he growled, turning back to his blaster. He was almost done putting it back together, but the _jetii’_ s utter lack of self-care was _infuriating_. Jango had finally given up on getting the _jetii_ to actually take care of himself, but he wasn’t above ordering the man back to the medbay. He was curious as to why the redhead had decided to invade _his_ space, though. “And a little over a week, I think. Why?”

Kenobi sucked in a sharp breath and then stumbled into the room, sitting down heavily on Jango’s bunk. “A week, really?”

He glanced up, gaze narrowed. “Yes, really. Took me a while to track you down after that meeting in the cantina, you know.” Kenobi’s face was twisted into a grimace and the redhead quickly looked away. “You do realise I took the opportunity to plant a tracker on you, right?”

The _jetii_ shrugged. “I figured, but I couldn’t be bothered to destroy it.” He gave Jango a sad, ironic little smile. “It turned out to be handy, didn’t it?”

Jango snorted and finished reassembling the blaster, setting it aside carefully before giving the _jetii_ his full attention. Why was he even bothering with the man? Oh, right. Because he’d heard the same rumours everyone else had. Kenobi had fled from Naboo. Because he was _dar’jetii_ \--no long a jedi. The redhead was frowning slightly and listing to one side a little. He looked exhausted.

“Do you even care about yourself in any way?” he asked, curious despite himself. Kenobi was proving to them over and over again that he cared less about himself and more about others. It was...worrying. To a degree that Jango had never experienced before. “And if you didn’t...why did you run?”

The jetii’s expression shuttered and he looked away from Jango, tensing up all over. “Because I Fell,” he said softly, gripping the edge of Jango’s bunk so tightly that his knuckles were turning white. “I reached for the Darkside and I shouldn’t have.”

Jango blinked at him, then frowned. “ _Ori'buyce, kih'kovid_ ,” he muttered in disgust and hauled himself to his feet, moving to join Kenobi on his bunk. “Kenobi, that doesn’t mean you weren’t doing the right thing. You were fighting a Sith, right?”

“Did you just call me...?” Kenobi was frowning at him and Jango waved him off.

“ _Wer'cuy_ ,” he said, and then gently took the _jetii_ ’s hands into his. “You were in a tough spot, kid. _Ukor b'ukor_ , yeah? You had to do the right thing, even if it meant reaching for the Dark, no?”

Kenobi seemed to deflate a little at that, sighing. “I suppose so...”

He sighed and stared down at their hands, frowning a little. “And now you have nowhere to hide, isn’t that right?”

The jetii tensed, but Jango just tightened his hold on Kenobi’s hands before the man could pull them away. “Jango--”

“I’m right, though, aren’t I?” Jango pressed, glancing up at the jetii. Kenobi was tense, his expression an odd mix of uncomfortable and trusting. “You really do have nowhere to go, to hide... That’s why you made a fake identity for yourself. Omari Mavar, right?”

“How did you--?”

“I have my ways, kid.”

Kenobi snorted. “I’m not that much younger than you, you know.”

“Nine years is enough to call you a kid, Kenobi.”

The _jetii_ scoffed at him, but Jango was smiling. He liked the banter. Still had no idea why he wasn’t trying to strangle the kriffing idiot, but he’d take what he could get. Kenobi deflated a moment later and then sagged against him. Jango tensed, glancing over at the man.

“You’re exhausted,” he said, and Kenobi made a soft noise of protest, something that sounded a lot like _‘m not tired_ to his ears. Jango snorted and shifted slightly, releasing the _jetii_ ’s hands to cup the back of his head, keeping Kenobi pinned against him. “You are. Don’t lie to me. Your injuries obviously took a lot out of you, not to mention that horrid cocktail of drugs. You’re still battling withdrawals and believe me when I say I can tell.”

“You can...tell?”

Jango just turned his wrist pointedly, feeling his shirt sleeve tug up a little. He caught the moment Kenobi saw the marks, the scars from his time as a slave on the spice transport. “Yeah. Spice transport. We weren’t given filters or anything to stem the second-hand addiction that resulted from handling Spice.”

The jetii frowned, lifting his head to meet Jango’s slightly unfocused gaze. “You were a slave?”

“Once,” he said softly, shifting to move his wrist out of sight. “A long time ago. I’m not anymore.”

“Clearly,” Kenobi drawled and Jango snorted. “How’d you escape?”

Jango’s smile was vicious when he replied; “Pirates.”

The _jetii_ snorted. “Really?”

“Really.”

“That’s not the whole story,” Kenobi said softly, still leaning heavily into him. Jango tried to ignore how comfortable it felt to sit there like this, just feeling the _jetii_ against him, warm and alive. He swallowed thickly and wet his lips, not looking at Kenobi.

“The slaver tried to convince me to fight them off,” he said just as softly, blinking slowly. “I killed him, then fought my way free.” He laughed humorlessly. “No one was expecting it... I’d been a slave for...hm.. Two? Maybe three years? Hard to keep track of that, to be honest. I was almost always at least somewhat high on Spice the entire time.”

“Must’ve been terrible for you...”

“Mmh...” Why the hell was he telling the jetii any of this? He’d never even told Mij half of this, never mentioned the slavery--but Mij knew, could probably tell by the marks left on his wrists, around his throat. He hated it, hated them for the reminder they were. As if Galidraan wasn’t bad enough, he’d had to be enslaved and the _Jetiise_ had helped it happen. He was sure Dooku hadn’t known what the Governor would do, but it still stung.

“I’m sorry you had to go through all of that,” the jetii said a moment later and Jango blinked, dragging himself out of his dark thoughts to shift enough that he caught the look on Kenobi’s face. The _jetii_ ’s gaze was unfocused, eyes almost glassy as he blinked in a sleepy, off-putting manner. “First, everyone you knew and loved were killed by _jetiise_ and _Kyr'tsad_ , and then you were sold into slavery... They beat you so badly--”

Jango jerked away from him, slamming his shields down. He hadn’t mentioned that at all, hadn’t meant to be so relaxed around the other man, and was quickly regretting this conversation. How did the _jetii_ even know? Fucking Force _osik_ , most likely. He kept his hands gentle as he guided Kenobi down onto his bunk, laying him on his side so he didn’t aggravate his back more. Jango swallowed thickly and stood, staring down at the blinking _jetii_. Kenobi was frowning as he turned away to find his armour. Why he thought it wise to take off the beskar while around a fucking _jetii_ , he didn’t know, but he was definitely regretting it now.

“Jango?” Kenobi asked, confused and sleepy, eyes less unfocused but still unsettling. He looked like he was on the verge of passing out. “What--”

“Go to sleep,” he grunted, carefully pulling each piece of armour on. “Get some rest. I’ll come check on you in a few hours.”

He didn’t look back as he stalked out of the room, helmet tucked under one arm and fully dressed in his armour again. Mij didn’t even glance at him when he dropped into the co-pilot’s seat, scowling darkly. Just his luck that the damn redhead was a jetii and could, evidently, read him like a damn book. He resolved to keep his armour on around Kenobi as much as possible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations;  
> Cuy'val Dar - those who no longer exist  
> 'Alor - shortened form of “Mand’alor”, not to be confused with “alor” (leader, chief, "officer", constable, boss; Chancellor)  
> Jetii - jedi  
> Aka'jor - a mix of “aka” which means “mission, task, goal, objective” and “jor” which means “why” (as in "That’s why I did it"), possibly a contraction of “akaan'jorad” (alarm, alert, siren, call to arms (lit. "voice of war")) or “akaan'jorir” (warn, alarm, alert)  
> Kyr'tsad - Death Watch  
> Werlaara - myth (archaic)  
> Kom'rk - gauntlet  
> Elek, Mand’alor - Yes, Mand’alor  
> Mand’alor - sole rule  
> Beroya - bounty hunter  
> Demagolka - someone who commits atrocities, a real-life monster, a war criminal (from the notorious Mandalorian scientist of the Old Republic, Demagol, known for his experiments on children, and a figure of hate and dread in the Mando psyche)  
> Osik - shit  
> Cuun Mand’alor - our Mand’alor  
> Me'ven - Huh? What? An expression of bewilderment or disbelief.  
> Tion'jor? - why?  
> Tion’gar emuurir kaysh? - You like him? (tion is added before “gar” (you) to turn it into a question).  
> Dar’jetii - not a jedi, often used to mean Sith but in this context, Jango means “former Jedi”.  
> Ori'buyce, kih'kovid - all helmet, no head  
> Wer'cuy - "It was ages ago." (colloquial, often used as "Forget it" or "It doesn’t matter"). Jango is using it as “Forget it” here.  
> Ukor b'ukor - "When push comes to shove" (forced to make a decision)  
> Jetiise - plural of Jedi, sometimes used to mean the Republic but Jango just means Jedi here.
> 
> If I missed any, let me know!


End file.
